


Unfriendly Cake

by dandeliononfire



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Short drabble about an awkward first approach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandeliononfire/pseuds/dandeliononfire
Summary: Katniss slips into the Mellark Bakery to pick up a cake on her way to her sister's Birthday. When the baker leads off with what she assumes is an insult, Katniss bristles.This was probably (possibly? likely?) my first-ever foray into Everlark from a long way back now, done in response to a birthday prompt from @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles.  Be gentle with me.





	Unfriendly Cake

“You know, my mother doesn’t like you.”

Katniss snapped her head sideways, the large refrigerator case full of cakes momentarily forgotten. Peeta Mellark, youngest son of the family that was Mellark’s Bakery, had appeared from nowhere and was standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. Katniss looked around. The older boy who had been manning the counter had disappeared into the back.

Peeta was looking into the case, apparently uninterested in her. Perhaps he was simply unimpressed, given the mean thing he’d just said.

Katniss fought back the sting of tears that threatened so fast she could barely ground herself.

 _My mother doesn’t like you?_  He’d barely bothered to speak to her through grade school, middle school, and high school. And his first words to her as an adult were to put her down, with what had sounded like a hint of amusement?

She eyed him sideways, up and down, remeasuring him. She’d been silently watching him since they’d been eleven, all the way through high school, after she’d caught something in his eyes the few times they’d accidentally glanced each other’s way. Something sad, but still warm. It had grabbed her attention. And as she’d gotten older, and the other girls at school were constantly droning on about boys and boyfriends, those rare looks had threatened to claw up the dirt covering something rooted deeper than just attraction.

But she’d had no time for boys, with Prim being her charge more often than not with her mother’s work schedule. Not to mention she’d been little more than a surly tom-boy. And Peeta Mellark had never been in her circle anyway. Wrestler. Well-liked. Naturally a good student. Well spoken in class and often the first person snatched up by the other girls for study buddies whenever there were partner assignments. Why hadn’t he gone on to college?

“She can get in line.”

Whatever pleasant warmth she’d felt in the past towards him, as recently as a few minutes ago in the car on the way over, it had been replaced with cold bitterness. While she might never have been worth his notice in a good way, it didn’t mean he had the right to randomly hurl an insult at her.

Katniss hid her hurt behind crossed arms, and pretended to resume her scan the refrigerated shelves. It was only her pride, back stiffening at being insulted, that kept her feet planted. She’d come by Mellark’s to buy a cake for her sister’s, Prim’s, birthday. This year Prim was sixteen. Katniss was back from her first year of college, and had skipped half her Friday classes so she’d have time to make the drive home and make it to the bakery in time to pick up the cake like she did every year.

Her ritual.

Because Prim’s birthdays had been the only regular times she’d get to see him, observe him, without others from school already having grabbed his attention. He’d always seemed polite during her visits, if quiet and non-talkative. So much less lively, more real, without others to… What? She’d wondered for years whether he’d fed off their energy, or if he’d simply been trying to please them. She’d never come to a conclusion.

_My mother doesn’t like you._

As far as she was concerned, he could keep on not talking to her for the rest of his life.

She leaned closer to the case, trying to break the angle that made the reflections of her scowling face, and his smiling one, stare back at her like ghosts in a translucent mirror.

“You can get in that line too, right behind her,” she said.

He leaned in closer to the case as well, clearly aping her in some sort of mock. “There’s a line?”

The cheerfulness in his voice made her twist her neck. He was looking at her, the blue eyes she’d noticed so well were alive and beautiful.  _Beautiful?_  Where had that come from?

She cursed, scowled, and looked back to the case. This time she dropped into a squat to avoid him. She hoped it looked like she was simply eying the bottom shelf.

It didn’t work. He dropped into a squat next to her, with his outer thigh grazing hers.  “I’m surprised there’s a line. Everyone liked you so much in school.” She stared at the cakes without seeing them, struggling with another stab of confused hurt and automatically masking it with fire.

“Have I done something to you? Because for the life of me I don’t remember a single time I was mean to you in school.”

He put his hands up. “What? Lots of people liked you. You just scared them all off with that winning charm.”

“When did you become such a-”

“And anyway, I’d be in a different line than my mother.” He leaned his head closer to hers conspiratorially. “I meant it as a compliment. She hates everything I like. I think it’s sort of like breathing for her.” While Katniss was trying to process his statement, he pressed his finger against the glass. “How about that one? She’d love it.”

“Who? Your mother?”

“No. It’s Prim’s birthday, right?” he asked.

“How would you know that?” She stood up and was nearly in his face when he stood up as well. Her family business was none of his, and there was no reason for him to know anything about them aside from the mostly made-up gossip about the ‘poor Everdeen girls’ she used to overhear in school after her father died. She pressed her finger just under his clavicle, a spot she knew would hurt with only a little application of pressure and narrowed her eyes once he winced. “It’s none of your damn business.”

He cleared his throat and looked down. When his head came up again, the confident, easy smile he’d had before was gone. “Sorry, Katniss. I just…”

“You just what?” It irritated her that he’d used her name. Something he’d never bothered to do when they’d passed each other in the halls every day for the majority of their life. In his hesitation, and staring back down at the floor, he seemed to find something. He raised his slouched shoulders and looked at her straight on.

“You know what? I’m not going to be intimidated by you anymore.”

She opened her mouth, intent on showing him exactly  _how_ intimidated she could make him for insulting her by calling her intimidating in the first place. But he huffed out his nose and made a determined, thin-lipped smile that made her pause with curiosity.

“We went to school together. I watched you every day. You never said hello to me. Including at graduation or before you left for college while I’ve been stuck here working as low man at the bakery because supposedly this place would crumble if I ran off to live my own life. I’ve never forgotten anything about you, including that first time you showed up to buy a cake for sister’s birthday four years ago, or you showing up the same day every year since. My name is Peeta Mellark. I’m one of the baker’s sons.” He held out his hand. “It’s good to meet you, finally, Katniss Everdeen.” He pushed out another breath and kept his hand out even though she didn’t take it.

“It’s not for Prim’s birthday,” she lied, trying to find some advantage. She felt suddenly more unsure than she had when she’d thought he was being cruel. His hand dropped and he looked away.

“Sorry, I thought I had the date right.”

“Well you don’t,” she snapped.

And then she dropped back onto her heels to continue scanning the shelves. It was something to do so she didn’t have keep looking at him; the sight of him looking awkward and bashful, combined with him trying to convince her he’d been anything but apathetic towards her in school, was too much to wrap her mind around while simultaneously having to stare into the blue of his eyes.

She’d never been boy crazy as a girl. She hadn’t gone boy crazy at college. Though possibly that was because she’d still been gently curious about him.

He hadn’t moved. She risked a glance. He was staring down at her, a determined look on his face. She growled at herself when she realized she’d gotten trapped by those eyes after all.

“I’m sorry I bothered you, Katniss.”

The tired quality of his voice, as he started to walk away, made her stomach tighten.

She ignored it, because it felt a bit like rising panic, and stuck her face back into the baker’s case instead.

And then she saw it. A perfect cake. Round, three tiered, with lavender icing spread glass-like without flaw. It was decorated on the sides and top with delicate, gentle orange and yellow pastillage primroses.  _Happy Birthday Primrose_  was emblazoned on the top with a delicate hand.

“What is  _this_?” She bounced to her feet. He was already several steps back to the counter but he stopped, sagging shoulders lifted momentarily in a sigh though he didn’t turn around.

“It’s stupid. It’s nothing. Just forget it.”

She flanked him at the counter and shook her head once, stunned. Or maybe amazed. Touched?

“I made sure I had the decorator’s shift yesterday so I could have it ready for today,” he said, looking over her shoulder so as not to meet her eyes. There was an excess of that sadness there, the same that used to tug at her heart when she was a girl. “And I made sure to have my brother tell me when you came in so I could come out and make sure you found it.”

His eyes refocused on hers for just a moment, before escaping to find the same empty space again. “I really didn’t mean to… Well, never mind. It doesn’t matter, does it?”

She had never been good with words where sentiment was involved, and couldn’t find anything to say. As it was, her mind was struggling to comprehend that he really might be in earnest that he… ‘watched’ her? Did that mean he liked her? Or was he just being polite?

“You can have the cake, if you think she’ll like it. I won’t charge you since you didn’t ask for it.”

“I can’t let you give-”

He held his hand up. “Look, it’s okay. Okay? We won’t be able to sell it to anyone else anyway. It was just for you.”

“You mean for Prim,” she corrected, still trying to search her way through her emotions, which were darting rapidly between disbelief and guarded hope.

His eyes came back and pierced through hers, now with a bit of fire in them. “No, Katniss.” He sounded angry. “I meant for  _you_. My gift to  _you_.”

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “It’s Prim’s birthday, not mine. It’s her name on it.”

His eyes softened, as well as his voice, “The only time I’ve ever seen you really happy is when you were with her in the hallways our senior year and she was a freshman. I’ve met Prim a few times this year when she’s come in to buy stuff. She’ll like whatever you get her because she adores you. But you adore her more. And I wanted to make you feel extra proud tonight when she blows out those candles.”

“Why would you care?” she asked.

“Because it was something I could do to finally tell you that I… noticed you. That I’ve _always_  noticed you, Katniss.”

 _She_  noticed she was leaning forward against the counter, her body of its own accord trying to lean towards him as if that could make it easier to believe him. She let her eyes drop as she dug non-existent dirt from under her nails.

“It’s very beautiful,” she said quietly.

“Thank you.”

She heard him sigh again, and his feet shuffle on the floor as he shifted his weight. After a few seconds of awkward nothing, the door’s bell jingling made them both start. Peeta greeted the older woman by name, but his smile was tight and reserved. He grabbed a cloth and wiped at the counter, looking busy and not looking up.

“So will you let me box it up for you to take, then?” he asked her quietly while the woman was busy studying one of the other display cases.

It took too long for her to open her mouth. The increased heart rate, the burning at the tips of her ears, the pit in her belly as she allowed herself to start to believe this wasn’t just some sort of miscommunication, had given the other patron too much time to make her own decision.

Peeta was suddenly gone from in front of her, eaten up and stolen by one of the cases he had to duck behind to fill the order for muffins and danish. But soon, he was back. Katniss stepped aside so the woman could step to the counter and pay, and watched Peeta’s face, and shoulders, and then arms and hands, as he punched keys on the cash register.

It gave her time to think. Time enough for fear to squeeze her, fear that the stirrings of hope she felt might be premature or mistaken altogether. It felt like a belt tightening around her heart instead of freeing it. She dug under her nails again, staring at them until the bell over the door told her they were alone once more. She looked up to find him watching her. The intensity on his face made that belt tighten.

“Will you please let me box it for you to take home, Katniss?”

“Peeta… When you say you ‘noticed’ me…” She looked down at her hands again, “What does that mean?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious.”  He came around the counter and stood in front of her, but then waited for her to look up. “I’ve always liked you. Since we were little.”

Heavy on his feet, there was the sound of shuffling again as he inched towards her. Close enough she could reach out and touch him if she wanted. The belt was as tight as a tourniquet, and the pit in her stomach exploded into a roiling cauldron of ice and fire, fear and excitement.

“Is that for real?”

His forehead crinkled. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

She pulled her lower lip in under her teeth. “Just… I just didn’t expect it.” She cleared her throat and looked away, feeling the flush on her ears lower into to her cheeks.

He shuffled forward a few inches. “I don’t see how you couldn’t. I only tried to bore a hole right through you with my eyes every day our last year of school together.” She stiffened when his fingers came up and pulled her braid from around her shoulder, worrying the end between the pad of his thumb and forefinger. He let his eyes lift from it to her face. “Katniss, I know you’re away at school, but… You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you more often. You could do a hometown boy a solid by coming home some weekends.”

She chewed on the edge of her lip and then managed to give him her best attempt at a small smile, even though it felt unnatural to be smiling at a guy. “I do already. Most weekends, actually.”

He brightened immediately. “Really?”

She nodded, and found her tentative smile growing without prompt.

“That’s… great. You could come by here, though? Maybe?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I’d make it worth your while,” he kept talking. “Prim tells me you always like my cheese buns.”

Katniss groaned, blush deepening. The grin he gave her made it worse, as did the way the timbre of his voice lowered into a surprisingly confident semi-tease. “I’d gladly barter cheese buns for your time, Kat.”

 _Kat?_  He’d gone from Katniss to Kat already? She’d hated that nickname. Always. So why did it make her stomach flip now?

She darted her eyes around, mortified, trying to avoid looking into his while still wanting to read his expression. He bobbed his head comically to try and match the evasive maneuver, until she laughed and finally gave up.

“Alright, alright. Stop before I spontaneously combust with embarrassment, Peeta.”

He looked up for a second, hands steepled. “Oh my God, she used my name.”

Something about the way he smiled at her changed, deepened, by the time his face returned from facing heaven.

“As though I wasn’t already a goner… After that I’ll have to make it my personal mission to satisfy your hunger whenever possible.” His eyes betrayed his flirtation with something more like tenderness than anything else.

“I might like that,” she said while looking away again. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his face split into a grin.

“It’s a deal.” And after a few seconds of quiet lengthened between them, he added, “So I can box that cake for you then?”

She chewed on her bottom lip as an idea came to her. “How about no?” The confusion and uncertainty playing across his face was empowering. “How about you box it and bring it yourself after work? You can sit around and rest for a bit before dinner, or help me decorate. Prim and my mom won’t be back to the house until around six from their traditional mother-daughter outing. I’m making lasagna. And Prim won’t mind.”

His eyebrows rose. “You sure?” He looked surprised, and enthusiastic. She nodded, finding a bit more confidence for her smile. “And you’re cooking? That’s a definite yes, then,” he said.

“Don’t be so hasty. That’s why the pizza place is on our speed dial. But every year they at least let me try before calling for delivery.”

“I cook,” he offered. “I could get out of here a little early today and help with that as well as the decorations.”

“That’s okay, I can-”

One of his hands came up and his fingers lightly brushed her arm right below where her sleeve ended. It was an ask, but without words. She felt every single atom of contact between their skin.

As fast as an arrow, she wanted nothing _except_  for him to come by early to putter around in the kitchen with her, tease her poor cooking skills, put his hands on her shoulders to push her out of the way when she burned something on the stove.

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly unable to look anywhere except his eyes. “Let me just… Let me give you the address and I’ll see you there whenever you can get free. If you’re really sure you want to come help.”

“I do. Very much.”

“Well, okay then,” she said, absently rubbing her arm where he had touched her.

“Yeah, okay,” he smiled. But then he snapped his fingers, remembering.

He stepped behind the register and grabbed a pen and an unfolded cake box, bouncing a bit on his heels and wiping his palms on the sides of his pants as she wrote her address out for him on the pink cardboard. He nodded, eyes bright, once she pushed it back to him across the counter.

“I’ll see you in a few hours then, Peeta?” She tried not to sound as eager as she felt.

“A pack of wild dogs couldn’t keep me away, Katniss.”


End file.
